


(Doctors)3

by PineconeTrinklebriar



Series: Nightlights [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Eye Trauma, F/M, M/M, Major Illness, Medical Experimentation, Mentioned Alphys (Undertale), Not one you've ever heard of, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), soul injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineconeTrinklebriar/pseuds/PineconeTrinklebriar
Summary: Everyone has to go to the doctor sometime. Three scenes with three different doctors and three different outcomes.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Nightlights [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994629
Comments: 22
Kudos: 16





	1. Sans's Socket

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This one involves doctor's visits, implied medical trauma (in the past and off-screen), descriptions of illness and injuries, and one minor character death (off-screen, in the past, and not someone you have ever heard of)
> 
> I will sum up the chapters at the end because there's a lot of plot in this one, but do what is safe for you!

Sans hated doctors and anything related to doctors. You suspected that his aversion to therapy had a lot more to do with the title “doctor” than actually trying to avoid talking about his problems. Gods know he loves to complain, so you would think he would love the idea of a neutral party that had to listen to his problems. 

For as long as you had known Sans, a little over four years at this point, he had never once visited a doctor. Any time he was injured in a mission, he was able to simply get healing from other members of the family. Even the time his magic was sapped by that vampire enough that he nearly dusted, Mutt had insisted that the doctor come to the house instead of Sans going to the hospital. He wouldn’t go when his magic acted up, either, instead insisting on suffering at home while Mutt pretended to ignore him but secretly worried until he felt better. He even managed to somehow dodge the Embassy’s required yearly check-up, which stressed you out. Everyone would feel safer if Sans would just go to the damn doctor, but for whatever reason, Sans  _ loathed _ them enough to break the rules. And you were pretty sure that Sans loved rules as much as he loved you.

One of those nights that the two of you lay in bed together, the dark making it easier to spill secrets, he told you that he didn’t even really remember exactly why he hated them. He just knew that something terrible had happened with them somewhere down the line. He figured it was a part of his childhood that he simply didn’t remember anymore. You wouldn’t put it past his “mother” to have done some shady medical shit with him; he didn’t talk about her much, but what he did say made you want to go to Swapfell, resurrect her, and then kick her ass.

None of that was especially helpful just now. You and Sans were sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, waiting to see a specialist that was apparently a whiz in both optics and monster medicine. This guy, Dr. Lappetelle, was apparently a pioneer in the field and had even been able to restore old man Gerson’s failed sight. You were told he was a genius. You were hopeful that he would be able to do something about the crack in Sans’s face and the damage to his socket, something that meant Sans could take off the eye patch and that his vision wouldn’t be permanently affected.

Sans was fidgeting in a way that you had never seen him do before. He went from drumming his fingers on his femur to shifting uncomfortably in his seat, from holding your hand to flat out pacing in the waiting room. You kept pulling him back down into his seat and did your best to distract him, but he was getting more agitated with every passing moment.

The nurse must have noticed and taken mercy on you because she showed the two of you back to an examination room far faster than you’d come to expect at doctor’s offices. Being in the room was, surprisingly, far worse than the waiting room had been. Sans strode in, all confidence and bravado, only to practically dive to hide behind you when he spotted the chair that you sit in to get your eyes examined. His eye light blinked out and he began shaking so hard that his bones rattled.

“Sans?” you said gently, pulling him over to one of the normal plastic chairs they kept in there for family members. “Baby, you’re okay. Breathe for me.”

He didn’t acknowledge that you were speaking at all, which made your own breathing hitch a little. Sans really didn’t panic, not like this, not ever. You leaned forward and gently touched his arm. “Sans. You’re safe. You’re okay. I won’t let them do anything that you don’t want them to. I promise.” When he didn’t respond again, you began fishing your phone out of your pocket to call Mutt. You were Sans’s girlfriend, but Mutt was his brother. Maybe he would be able to get through to him--

Sans caught your hands in a tight grip. You tensed and looked up, relaxing a little when you saw that his eye light had relit. He was breathing a little easier, pointedly looking at you instead of the chair behind you. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m alright. I didn’t mean to worry you. Sorry.”

“You’re a mess,” you told him gently. “It’s okay; I know you hate it here.” You took his face in your hands and gave him a gentle kiss. “I’m here. I’m not going to let anyone do anything to you that you don’t want. I promise.”

“I know. I know. It’s just… That chair.” He shuddered. “I… I… I don’t know why, but I find it… terrifying? It’s like I know something awful happened to me with it but I just… When I try to remember, it’s all fuzz.” He leaned forward so that his forehead was resting on your shoulder. “It’s almost worse than just being at the doctor, this whole ‘not being able to remember’ thing.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t remember,” you told him. 

“Maybe,” he said, but his muffled voice didn’t sound all that convincing.

The two of you sat like that for several minutes, him with his face buried in your shoulder and you murmuring encouraging nonsense and rubbing little circles on his back. His breathing was evening out and he finally stopped shaking at least.

There was a brisk knock at the door, but before you could tell them to come in, his head snapped up and he looked at you desperately. “Don’t let them use the laser, okay? Please?”

“Babe, there’s no--”

“Please?” 

His voice broke a little when he said that, and your soul broke right along with it. You took his face in his hands again and said, “I promise I will not let them use the laser.” What laser? You had no idea, but if this guy turned out to be some sort of supervillain that lasered monsters in his doctor’s office, you would firmly make sure that Sans didn’t succumb to such a fate.

What the hell happened to him back in Swapfell?

There was a second knock at the door. Your promise seemed to calm him, so you called out, “Come in!” A young man--you were surprised to realize that he was a mage, probably a couple of hundred years younger than you--bustled into the room. He wasn’t much taller than you, with dark hair and owlish round glasses. He smiled up at you absently and then looked back down at the chart. “Mr. Sans--”

“Excuse me, but I don’t use honorifics,” Sans said. He seemed to relax a little, as if getting to correct someone calmed him a bit.

The doctor’s faint smile didn’t even falter. “Very well. Sans, if you wouldn’t mind moving to the examination chair, we can take a look at your eye light.”

Sans stiffened against you and you were about to ask if he could just be examined in the plastic chair, but he stood before you could get the question out. You stood too, keeping his hand tightly in yours as he made his way over to the chair. He settled into it stiffly and he gripped your hand like it was a lifeline. You just let him hold however tightly he needed and subtly pushed calming green magic to your hand to try to help him chill out. If he noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’m going to remove the eye patch,” Dr. Lappetelle said, gently leaning forward. Sans squeezed your hand even more tightly and you forced yourself not to grimace at his crushing grip. Dr. Lappetelle pulled the patch away and began examining the socket delicately. He didn’t make any noticeably telling facial expressions or noises; everything was a bland look of concentration.

You didn’t realize how worried you were about Sans’s socket until that moment. Yes, you vaguely worried about the eye patch every day, but it wasn’t until right now, in this office, that you realized Sans might actually be facing permanent blindness in one eye. You knew that it would be okay; several members of the skeleton family had only one eye light functioning at max capacity, but you still didn’t want that for your boyfriend. You focused on the pain of him squeezing your hand to keep from letting your concern show on your face.

“Aright, Sans. Can you try lighting your eye light, please?”

Sans blinked a few times and then his eye light lit. It didn’t look right; the purple was lighter than normal and it was fuzzy and shaky, just like it always was when his magic acted up. You could tell he was resisting the urge to rub at it.

The doctor did several tests and each one left you more nervous than the one before. None of the tests were familiar to you; your jelly-filled eyeballs just didn’t need the same checks that Sans’s eye lights did. He had different lights that he shone into his socket (none of them were lasers. You checked.), there were charts and some sort of bone density measure. He had Sans cast magic both with the eye light lit and unlit. Each time, the doctor made noncommittal noises the meaning of which was incomprehensible to you.

Finally, he leaned back and looked at the two of you. “I have good news and bad news,” he said.

You swallowed hard. “Okay?” you managed.

“First, the crack in your skull is likely permanent. It runs along a major mana line and has resisted healing magic. It seems that it will not be going away any time soon, if ever. It may lessen in severity, but it seems to be permanent.”

“Does that make his skull… less structurally sound?” you asked, the image of Mars and Hobbes’s cavernous holes in their heads making you want to puke. You felt like an asshole; it wasn’t like you loved those two less because of their injuries, you just… didn’t want Sans to have to deal with them, too. You made a mental note to discuss that dizzying train of thought with Dr. Springer at your next appointment.

Thankfully, the doctor shook his head. “It shouldn’t. Obviously, he should be careful not to get struck there again, but it isn’t as if his skull will suddenly be more delicate because of the crack.”

Sans nodded. “That’s fine,” he said calmly. “Many members of our family have skull cracks. Edge will probably think it makes me look cool.”

You laughed a little, which was obviously his goal. “It does make you look tough,” you said with a grin. Then you turned back to Dr. Lappetelle. “You said there was good news.”

“Yes,” he said. “I do not expect you to have permanent vision trouble as a result of this injury.” You felt yourself sigh with relief and you didn’t think you imagined Sans’s shoulders relaxing a little as well. “That being said, the eye light is still healing. You need to take at least a week off from work to rest it.”

“A  _ week?!” _ Sans squawked indignantly. “But--”

“And that includes all forms of reading and watching things. No television, no bright lights, no computer or phone screens. Your eye light needs time to adjust and any strain at all could cause permanent damage.” He leveled a serious look at Sans. “I am serious about this. If you don’t rest, you will end up with permanent damage to your sight.”

You returned Sans’s tight grip. “Okay, if that’s what he needs, that’s what will happen.”

Sans looked at you like you were a traitor, but you weren’t about to apologize for making sure he didn’t hurt his fool self. The doctor gave you several pamphlets about his recovery and what to expect, as well as very specific guidelines about what he was and was not allowed to do. You winced when you read over it; basically he was going to spend the next week sitting in the dark. That oughta be super fun for both of you.

You thanked the doctor and accepted the frankly hilarious sunglasses that he gave you for Sans to wear home. In a huff, he handed over the keys to his Tesla so that you could drive. He turned almost completely away from you in the car and pressed himself against the passenger side door as you pulled out of the parking lot. 

You decided to leave him be for a while; he was probably upset about having to take off work and maybe needed some time to adjust to the idea. You turned on the radio and let it play quietly while you drove, softly singing along to the songs that you knew. As you reached the gate to New New Home and handed over your security ID, you finally began to worry a little. Usually, he rallied quicker than this and the entire experience of visiting the doctor could be taking a toll on him.

“Babe,” you said gently, “do you want me to call Edge for you? Or Thomas?”

Sans snapped his head around to look at you. “Of course I don’t fucking want you to call them!”

Despite your status as a careful driver, you took your eyes off the road to look at your boyfriend. He looked furious. “I know you’re upset--” you tried, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Of course I’m upset! I have to take another week off work to what? Laze around in the dark doing absolutely nothing!” He crossed his arms. “I am  _ not _ doing that.”

“I understand why you feel that way,” you began diplomatically, only for him to cut you off again.

“Oh,  _ do you? _ Because I don’t remember you  _ ever _ having to take work off from a job you actually give a shit about because you wouldn’t be able to see anymore if you didn’t!”

You let that hang in the air for a moment as you turned into his driveway. Only after you turned the car off did you turn to face him. “Okay,” you said with a slight edge to your voice, “you’re upset and you’re taking it out on me. Which, fine I get it, but we are going to go ahead and call a timeout before one of us says some shit that we’ll regret. Go inside.”

You couldn’t see his eye lights behind the stupid sunglasses, not really, but you could see that they flared when you ordered him inside. “You’re not my boss,” he growled.

“Nope,” you agreed, “just your girlfriend that really, really loves you.”

He was already opening his mouth to spit more vitriol when he processed what you actually said. His whole posture changed when he did. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. He took a few deep breaths before he eked out a soft, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Sans.”

“No, I do. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Maybe not, but I get it. It’s okay. Why don’t you go inside and let me call Edge? Maybe find something that you can make with the kitchen lights dimmed or let Neo work on dinner. Or, hell, both. Just do something to help you calm down yeah?”

He sighed. “I don’t… I don’t deserve you.”

You grinned at him. “I’m quite a delight. Now shoo.”

He leaned in and you gave him a little kiss, then he clambered out of the car and walked into the house. His posture was still a little slumped, but he would be okay. You were pretty sure he’d be okay.

You watched him go inside and took a deep breath, mentally preparing for a very, very long week. Then, you pulled out your phone and called Edge. “Hey, bossman, we just got back from the doctor and I have good news and bad news.”


	2. Ellie's Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie's soul has been acting up since her encounter with Hobbes in the kitchen. She still isn't admitting what actually happened, but her best friend finally insists she sees a doctor. Luckily for her, the leading expert on souls happens to be a family friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter has a pretty intense description of a painful injury. Again, I'll sum it up at the end because plot!

Turns out, it was a lot harder to sneak out of the house and down to the Embassy if Sans was home and pouting. You were three days into his forced vacation and he was practically bouncing off of the walls. So far, he had caught up on every single podcast that he’d ever even thought about listening to, bought (and finished!) five audiobooks on your joint Audible account, and finagled you into reading some of his paperwork out loud to him so you could fill it out for him. He was allowed some physical exertion so he was also taking full advantage of your undivided attention to get up to more sexy activities. And, yeah, that was obviously fun, but you had to rest at some point. It was like any single second he got bored you became entertainment. You loved him but, well.

It was exhausting.

On top of that, you and Mutt had to take down a couple of alliumedes, which meant leaving Sans with other family members to be babysat. So far, Blue, Papyrus, and Edge had all taken turns and each time you returned home the relief on Sans’s face was a little heartbreaking. He also told you that if you ever left him with Blue or Papyrus again, you’d come home to a pile of dust and he wasn’t sure if it would be him or them.

Today, you claimed that you needed to go home and do some work of your own. You felt a little bad ducking out of his house and practically shoving him into Mutt’s hands, but you had stuff you had to do and you were starting to worry it couldn’t wait. Anne was getting insistent and you couldn’t let her tell Sans, not right now, not while he was home for his eye light. On top of that, your work with the Scooby Squad was worrying you, too. So far, the missions you’d been on hadn’t required much magical expenditure on your part. The alliumedes were fairly simple to dispatch and you hadn’t so much as needed to form a shield. You knew that couldn’t last, though, and eventually, your little soul problem would be a  _ real _ problem.

Anne’s snooping at work led her to the very conclusion you feared: Alphys was the only one who would be able to help you. So you drove to the Embassy, a pile of paperwork from Sans as your excuse. On your way, you picked up Anne, who required visual proof that you were getting treatment. You stayed quiet the entire drive, listening to her story about one of her patients at the hope center. You were fairly certain it was meant to be comical, but none of the meaning actually filtered into your brain. 

Once inside the Embassy parking lot, you were forced to leave Anne to entertain herself in the car. She couldn’t get past security, especially not all the way down to the basement. You offered to take her to the cafeteria, but she shrugged and said that she’d rather just play on her phone in the car. She wouldn’t be able to resist talking to people if she went in (her extrovert tendencies were off the charts) but she was tired and didn’t want to engage right now. “If I go in there, I’ll be forced to hang out next to the door and literally talk to every single individual person that walks through the door. I just have, like, zero energy for that right now,” she said with a shrug.

Boy, you could understand that. The not having energy part, anyway.

You didn’t make eye contact with the security guard that swiped you in, past acknowledging that it wasn’t the beaver monster that set you up to be a science experiment. It wasn’t, of course; it was a monster that was so fluffy you couldn’t even see its eyes. You glanced around for anyone that you knew before sucking in a deep breath and swiping your card at the special lab elevators.

Well, not  _ your _ card.

The card you were  _ using _ .

It happened to be Mars’s card. You weren’t proud that you’d swiped it from the clutter of his desk last night at movie night, but you couldn’t very well use  _ your _ card to sign into the labs. You had the clearance (thanks Red) but you also knew it would set off alerts on Sans’s phone at least, probably Edge, Red, and Comic’s phones too. The last thing you needed was a family reunion while they all tried to figure out what you were doing here. You had a few excuses locked and loaded, but lying to the family wasn’t in your top ten list of favorite activities or anything. Besides, you wouldn’t fool a single one of them, and you knew Red wasn’t above busting out the Judge if he needed to.

You stepped out of the elevator into the bright fluorescent light of the labs and had to fight back a visceral reaction. You remembered that day now, coming down here to find Sans, running into Dr. Hueline, getting very, very sleepy all of a sudden… but those memories were overlaid with the  _ incredibly realistic _ dream that you experienced in the machine. It all melted together to create a nice trauma sundae for you and all you could do was force yourself to breathe. 

She was gone.

The machine was gone.

That wasn’t why you were here.

Of course, the reason you were here wasn’t, like, a ton better, but at least this time you were  _ choosing _ to let someone look at your soul instead of having it pulled out and milked for determination against your will. You squared your shoulders and forced yourself to march forward. You knew exactly where Alphys’s office was, so you walked directly to it and tapped on the door. It opened and the small yellow lizard monster was looking up at you in surprise. “E-E-llie? C-come in! H-h-how's Danny”

You did, carefully ignoring the weird door (and the quiet whispers you could hear therein) in the back of her lab. “Hey, Alph. Bird's fine. He's being a little shit, flaunting his stuff at the window and making all the neighborhood birds think they should live in my house, too.”

"O-of c-c-course! He is a v-v-v-very special bird!"

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. "Special's right." You sank into a chair across from her desk and tried to _just keep breathing normally._

“W-w-w-what can I do for you?” She looked supremely uncomfortable. She sat down at her messy desk and tapped her claws nervously.

You smiled at her. “I’m, uh, having some soul issues. I was hoping you could take a look?”

You didn’t expect her to pale at that. She was a soul expert, after all. You knew that souls were incredibly intimate to monsters, but she looked at them all of the time. So why…?

“Is it because of D-D-D-D-r. Hueline, what she did?” she asked, horrified.

Oh. That made sense. She thought you were experiencing symptoms because of how she messed with your soul. Well… Now, that wasn’t really the truth, but you didn’t want to explain the real reason. The Horrorfell boys were settling in so well, after all. Everyone  _ liked _ them and you were pretty sure they wouldn’t anymore, not after this, and it's not like he meant to. You knew he didn't.

“Uh,” you managed.

“What are your symptoms?” She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. You didn’t miss that her stutter fell away a bit when she shifted into scientist mode.

“Pain. Some trouble with my magic.”

“Trouble with magic?”

“Yeah… It hurts really bad when I try to conjure something, and sometimes I just… Can’t?”

She scribbled on her pad, then said, “I want to run some tests.”

You nodded meekly. “And, uh, Alphys? None of the skeletons know.”

She frowned at that. “B-but something like this, it would a-a-a-affect your work.”

You shrugged. “It hasn’t really yet, but It was hoping you could help me get it under control before it does.”

She nodded. “Well, I won’t t-t-tell them unless I have to.” She busied herself with gathering some equipment then turned back to you. “This is a soul scanner. It will give us detailed readings about your soul and your magic.” You nodded. “Can you summon your soul, please?”

You flinched. You knew that you would have to but… You finally sighed and did it. You shut your eyes as it emerged from your chest and that, by itself, hurt like hell. You pushed yourself back against the chair and tried to breathe, but something didn’t feel quite right. It felt like your soul was held back by bungee cords. You glanced down at your chest and gasped. Your soul was just barely emerged from your chest, but there were strings of dark purple-pink magic wrapped around it. It looked like your blood and magic did when it dried. What the hell…? You yelped as your soul popped itself back into your chest with all of the force of a pickup truck smashing into you.

“A-a-a-a-re you alright? Did that hurt?” Alphys asked from somewhere far away.

You tried to answer, but everything was swirling around you. You looked up at her helplessly and she leaned over you, summoning your soul herself. You choked back a scream as she did so; it felt like it was caught in your chest and she was ripping it when she pulled it out. In retrospect, the strings were probably pulling on it, but at the moment all you could think about was how much it _fucking hurt._

Once your soul pulled free, the pain dulled slightly, muted by the strange sensation of having your soul free of your chest.

You looked up at the faded pink heart and grimaced at the old cracks and scars on it, filled in with the deep purple of perseverance, and the weird scabby strings hanging off of it. It used to be a beautiful and unmarred bright pink, the pink of optimism, but the years hadn’t been especially kind to you. The loss of your parents, the abandonment of the mage community, Oliver... they all gouged marks into it. You weren’t sure exactly when the bright pink faded to the peach color (you didn't make a habit of regular soul checks after your parents died), but you remembered the first time you’d noticed it. Oliver wanted to see your soul and so you’d acquiesced. He, uh, wasn't impressed and didn't let you see his in return (you were pretty sure it was still that orangey-yellow color of courage back then, not the burnt orange it later became). It was fairly early in your relationship and you were so hurt when he didn’t like it. You understood, but man did it sting. The two of you didn’t talk about it ever again, not until he changed, right at the end of your relationship. 

You  _ really _ didn’t want to think about that.

You looked away from your soul and tried not to squirm as Alphys attached probes. Each of them pinched and you gasped at the pain, but you tried not to show it too much. She was pretty sensitive and doing you a favor; you didn’t want to upset her.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

Well. “A bit.”

She frowned. “None of this process should be painful.” She jotted something down on her notepad, then looked at the readings on the thing the probes were attached to. You didn’t know exactly what the machine was telling her, couldn’t find the words to ask as you tried to just breathe through the pain. She kept making small noises and you vaguely registered the beeping of machines while she worked. You gasped as another sudden pain ripped through your soul.

“Shit!” Alphys yelped. “Ellie, stay with me!”

_Never heard Al curse before,_ you thought blearily. You registered her touching you, laying you down on the floor, the feeling of cold numbness washing over you.

“This is gonna hurt. I’m s-s-sorry!”

She was right.

You screamed as you were stabbed, straight through your soul. The stabbing was quickly replaced with a searing hot pain ripped through you. It felt like your entire body was on fire. You tried to pull away, to fight, to do  _ anything _ , but you couldn’t move. You felt yourself losing consciousness and were distantly grateful. At least it wouldn’t fucking hurt anymore.

You never did quite black  _ (ha, that’s my boyfriend, you thought distantly) _ out, but suddenly the pain subsided a bit. Color returned to the world as your soul was returned to your chest. Slowly, you regained awareness. You were laying on the floor of Alphys’s lab, curled up in a ball clutching your chest. Slowly you uncurled and looked around. Alphys let out a strangled cry and shoved a water bottle and a box of Kleenex at you. You accepted them numbly, the wetness of tears distantly registering on your face.

“H-how do you f-feel?”

You looked at Alphys. She looked shaken; her lab coat was all mussed and there was a tacky pinkish-purple substance all over her. Your magic and/or blood, you realized. “The hell was that?” you asked.

“Your soul! It has a hole!” She shifted to grab her tablet and a 3D rendering of your soul appeared on the screen. “Two actually,” she said. She swiveled the image around with her claw and pointed. She was right; there were two small holes, tiny pricks on the surface. “I’ve never seen anything like it! I think when you feel pain, they’re tearing open more. Probably exacerbated when your soul makes excess magic. O-o-o-or when someone attaches probes or t-t-t-tears the scabs.”

“That, uh, doesn’t sound good. That what the strings were?”

Alphys nodded her head. “Y-yes, it looks like it bled before and formed s-scabs. You're probably having trouble with your magic b-b-because your soul l-leaks it through the holes constantly. But now that we know what we’re dealing with, I can work on a solution!” She fiddled with her table some more and then leveled a serious look at you. “T-t-this is serious, Ellie. Y-you could rupture your s-soul! No magic, not until we find a solution.”

“Alph--”

“You’ll have to tell Black.”

You tensed. “I…”

She sighed. “I-I-I know why you d-don’t want t-to.” You looked at her sharply but she kept talking. “You’re trying to p-p-protect him. And maybe me? B-but you can’t! This isn’t your f-f-fault. It’s mine. If I’d kept an eye on H-H-Hueline… I was responsible for her and I l-let you d-down and now you’re hurt.” She looked away and you were startled to see that she was crying. “I can t-t-tell him for you. Or with you. You aren’t alone.”

You swallowed back the guilt as you said, “No. I mean! Thank you, but. No. I, uh, think he’ll take it better with just me.”

She nodded. “I want y-y-you to stop in every other day until we get t-t-this figured out. And, hold on, I have…” she slipped out of the lab and returned a minute later carrying a device that looked like a futuristic EpiPen. She pushed it into your hands. “M-magic retardant. If your soul starts bleeding again, inject this. It’ll s-s-stop the flow and keep you alive long enough to get help.”

“Is that what you did just now?” you asked.

“Y-yes. It stopped your soul from making magic and gave me time to cauterize the wounds. A-actually, I could probably train the skeletons to do that too…” she trailed off.

“Uh. I’ll mention that?”

She nodded. “I-if you start hurting, inject it straight into your soul and call me immediately.”

Alphys pumped you full of other information and obtained your promise that you’d return in two days, barring any further incidents. You slipped the magic EpiPen into your jacket pocket and made your way back down the hallway. In the elevator, you leaned against the cold metal door and shut your eyes.

You knew deep down this was a big deal all along.

And you knew how pissed you would be if Sans kept something like this from you. Hell, you’d be pissed if any of the skeletons kept something like this from you. They were your family; weren’t you supposed to be able to trust your family with your secrets?

But the image of Sans’s blacked-out sockets as he grabbed you from between him and Hobbes that night in the kitchen flashed into your mind. You could still feel his hands on your neck, the sting of his claw cutting your cheek, the dull pain of slamming into the wall… And that was when he had no idea what Hobbes had  _ actually _ done. How would he respond when you told him the truth? You knew that, in monster culture, soul crimes were the most severe infraction you could commit, even worse than simple murder. If he knew would he be angry enough to turn Hobbes in, even though you knew he didn’t mean to hurt  _ you _ specifically? Would all of this end with Comic being forced to Judge and Execute a double of his brother? You shuddered at the thought. None of them would survive that, not really, you knew that.

What if he thought you were too fragile to have around monsters and decided to send you away? He'd done it before. Or what if he was angry that you kept this from him for so long and broke things off?

What if he just didn’t want to deal with that level of soul damage?

You knew it wasn’t fair to him, but you couldn’t help but see the way he’d looked at Nora in that damn simulation Hueline put you through. “Her soul is intact,” his double told you mockingly one of the few times he’d answered your calls. “Her soul is beautiful. Why would I want yours, Ellie, when I can have hers?”

Your mind made that up for a reason, right?

But what if Alphys told him first? Then, he’d be even angrier  _ and _ he’d know the truth. For a moment, your fingertips flared blue. You could make sure she didn’t tell him. You could force a deal, seal it with some integrity magic and make sure this stayed your little secret. You shook your head and let the magic fizzle. No, that was too far. Even in your desperation and worry, you weren’t going to resort to playing the fairytale witch who made magic deals. Nah, that shit was for the mages of old, the ones who didn’t want to play nice with monsters or humans alike.

_ The kind that your parents would be ashamed you even  _ thought _ about being. _

You shoved your hands in your pockets and felt the syringe there. As the elevator door opened, you took a deep breath and, with it, made a decision. Alphys was working on a solution. She was brilliant; she would find a way to patch the holes or whatever. There was no reason that you needed to worry anyone, not yet. You would be fine. You just needed a little more time--

Your phone rang and you frowned as Sans’s name popped up. Had Alphys called him after all? “Hey babe,” you answered. Your voice was maybe a little too bright, a little too forced, and you held your breath to see what he said next.

“Well, hello to you, too,” he said happily. “I hate to cut your break short, but Edge just called me. Apparently, you have a case. Red and Mutt are ready to go; do you want me to send them to get you?”

You bit back the sigh of relief. She hadn’t called him then. This was fine. “Um, I actually ended up meeting up with Anne, so I need to take her home and then I can just meet you guys at your house. Unless it’s urgent?”

“It didn’t seem too terribly urgent. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, and Eleanor?”

“Yeah?”

“I am  _ very much _ looking forward to you coming back.” His voice dropped into a low sensual growl and you couldn’t help but smile. “I have some  _ coming _ ideas, if you catch my drift.”

You laughed at the sound of fake retching from Red and Mutt in the background. “Sorry, no points for you. You’ve used ‘coming’ to replace ‘cunning’ before. Think of new material.”

“Don’ encourage ‘im!” Red yelled.

“I wish I was dead!” Mutt added.

You laughed again when you heard the distinct sound of Sans smacking his brother in the back of the skull. Yeah, you were making the right call not telling them. Just a little longer and everything would be fine. You were sure of it. You'd tell him if you had to... just not yet. You were fine. You would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:  
> Ellie goes to see Alphys about her soul. When Alphys tries to run tests, she discovers that Ellie's soul has two small holes on the surface and that, each time she experiences soul pain, the holes are growing and interfering with her magic. Alphys gives her a syringe that will stop magic production long enough to get help if the holes get worse and begins working on a permanent solution to this problem. Ellie debates whether or not to tell Sans (while reflecting on past trauma involving her soul). She decided not to because she is afraid that he will be angry and hand Hobbes over to be prosecuted for a "soul crime", though we still do not know exactly what the crime was. She's also scared that he won't want to put up with her soul being damaged because Oliver wouldn't or that he will break up with her because he will think she is unsafe around monsters. All of that together makes her decide to wait, trusting that Alphys will fix it before she actually has to tell him.**
> 
> ... I really tried to get Eleanor to cooperate and tell Sans, but she just wouldn't do it! She really wants to protect Hobbes and she's still fragile about her soul after that whole simulation with Dr. Hueline. I wrote a version where she decided to tell him, but it just wasn't right. It's what I would do, not what she would do. It's the first time she and I have had a major plot disagreement. So I guess we'll all just have to keep waiting to see if this is all going to crash down around her. I'm sure nothing will go wrong with her little plan.


	3. Red's Dead End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red visits a familiar face in hopes of getting some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of character death (off-screen and not someone you've heard of before), mentions of terminal illness, a soul being pulled out against the character's will (it gives off non-con vibes, even though it isn't actually hurting them or in a sexual way), description of an unwilling test subject involved in an experiment, drinking to cope, very light sexy times (it doesn't get far) -> This is a biiiiit of a rough one! Will summarize at the end!

Red didn’ fucking like this. 

He’d been tryin’ to break the doctor for near two months now and, for some reason, it wasn’ working. He was about to the point where he was gonna break out some good old fashioned torture tools to get the info flowin’, but the bossman didn’ like it when he dusted limbs. No matter how much they deserved it.

He stalked through the halls of the Embassy holding cells. Near no one knew ‘bout this place save for him, his bro, Black, Sans, and Asgore. Well, and the good folks they kept down here, o’ course. Each cell was perfectly identical: impenetrable glass door, uncomfortable cot, water source. There wasn’ no privacy. Privacy is earned and these assholes didn’ deserve nothin’ but a quick trip down a dark hole. The fluffy king o’ this world wouldn’ let ‘im actually chuck ‘em in a pit, so here they are usin’ up the Embassy’s nice air conditioning. Least Edge an’ Sans didn’ usually come down ‘ere. Red was scum an’ prob’ly belonged in one o’ these cells, but those two. These fuckers didn’ even deserve to breathe the same air as his bro an’ ‘is collared, an’ Red was here to make sure that they never, ever did.

There weren’ that many occupied cells right now. They didn’ keep ‘em down here if they didn’ have to; usually the normal cells were fine for a temporary hold. There was this world’s Flowey, who wasn’ never gettin’ out of here. There was Douglas, the beaver monster that sold you out, an’ Gerald, the lizard monster selling secrets. They didn’ have enough answers to Red’s questions to earn a ticket out; ‘sides, Red figured this was ‘bout the only place whoever paid ‘em couldn’ get to ‘em. He seriously doubted whoever it was was the type to leave witnesses.

Then there was the doc.

Dr. Hueline was sitting on the edge of her cot when Red arrived. She looked up at him like she was expectin’ tea and scones or some shit. She looked sad but not sorry an’ he was just ‘bout sick of that shit. “Heya doc,” he said. He plopped down in the folding chair he brought with ‘im and pulled a sandwich outa his inventory to eat.

“Hello, Red. How are you today?” she said politely.

“Be better if ya answered some questions.”

She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going to tell you anything?”

He grinned at her, a shark looking at a seal. “Got permission for special methods today,” he said casually.

“Special…?”

“Yeah. Ya know, I was my universe’s Judge. I don’ do it here, not too often, but that don’ mean I can’t. Usually Sans jus’ looks at yer soul while it’s in yer chest. That works for 90% o’ the sins he needs to see. But we also have this ability.” He finished up his sandwich and leaned forward a bit. “We can pull yer soul out an’ read its secrets that way. Everythin’ in it laid bare.” She paled at the implications. Good. “So ya don’ haveta tell me nothin’, like you’ve been sayin’ for months, but I don’ need ya to talk anymore.” He flexed his claws, emphasizing the sharpness. “‘M told that it feels almost like a bond, but wrong. It hurts, ‘parently.”

“That’s! That’s incredibly unethical! You can’t--!”

Red’s face darkened. “Sorry, did ya jus’ try to argue that pullin’ someone’s soul outta their chest against their will an’ usin’ it for my own gain is unethical?”

That shut her up fast. She looked down at her feet before finally saying, “I don’t believe you’ll do it.”

Red’s grin turned more vicious. “Lemme tell ya somethin’,” he snarled, eye lights flashing dangerously. “‘M not from this candy coated ‘verse. Where ‘m from, ‘s kill or be killed, an’ I’ve done plenty o’ killin’. You think yer soul’ll be the first one I read like this? Used to do it e’ery day, an’ that was for an asswhipe dick-tator that I hated. Ya think it’ll bother me to do it for my family?” She didn’t respond and Red sighed. He took a deep breath and ignited his left eye light, activating the Judge. 

Immediately he was assailed with a crushing wave of sins, all of ‘em screamin’ for some good ol’ fashioned Judgin’, but he ignored them. He reached out a claw towards Hueline and jerked ‘is hand. He very nearly didn’ hear her scream, nearly didn’ feel the soul tryin’ to cling to her. 

Felt like Underfell all over again.

And suddenly he  _ wasn’t  _ him _ anymore. _ He was  _ standing outside a building that _ he  _ recognized _ intuitively  _ as Alphys’s old lab, the one back in Hotland _ .  _ It was just like every other day, every day for the last year, that she’d come to stand here and hope to catch sight of the Royal Scientist. It was rare--everyone knew that they rarely left the labs--but for her love? She’d do anything. She paced outside the door, desperately rehearsing her arguments, well-worn as they were, and tried not to cry. The Royal Scientist didn’t handle crying well, they said. _

_ She couldn’t believe it when the door swung open. For a moment, the figure that appeared looked like someone else, someone tall and imposing, before shimmering and being replaced with a small yellow lizard. The heat must be getting to her. _

_ “Can I help you?” the lizard asked. _

_ “Yes! Oh thank the gods you answered!” She rushed forward and pulled the lizard into a bone-crushing hug. “I need your help.” _

_ “I am entirely too busy for such--” _

_ “My husband has fallen ill and I’ve heard that you are a miracle worker! I’m begging you: Just let me bring him to see you! He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve… And we’ve just had our children, twins, and they need to know their father! Please. I’ll do anything.” _

_ The lizard looked like Hueline struck her, but she finally shook her head. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” _

_ The next day, Hueline said goodbye to Vector, kissed him sweetly, and waited outside the lab for him to return. He didn’t come out that day, but Alphys texted her and said that the research was taking longer than expected and to come back the next day. _

_ So Hueline came back the next day. _

_ And the next. _

_ And the next. _

_ Until, finally, the door opened. Alphys looked haggard, her lab coat slightly torn and all mussed. Her eyes kept flicking around the lab, the floor, to the door, anywhere except Hueline’s face. “I said I’d do what I could,” she said. “But there’s nothing to do. He has lentamordis.” _

_ Hueline blinked at her. “I’m sorry, should I know…?” _

_ “It’s a very rare condition, one that is universally fatal.” _

_ “There must be something--” _

_ “There isn’t. I already tried. Even pure determination couldn’t save him. Go home to your children.” _

_ Hueline froze. “Couldn’t save him?” _

_ The lizard gave her a hard look. “He is gone. Go home.” _

_ Years passed in blurs, as they are wont to do, and soon the Surface is a reality, not just a fond dream. The Embassy needed more than one scientist to keep up with the humans and Hueline never stopped looking for answers to what killed her husband, so she was more than qualified for the research position at the labs. Over time, she realized that it was a magic condition that took Vector, one that slowly ate away the magic in his soul until he wasted away to dust. Or, that’s what would have happened if she had never taken him to the labs.  _

_ Some secretive snooping led her to discover what really killed her husband. Or, more accurately,  _ didn’t _ kill him. She’d seen the current Amalgamates, watched as they were given homes in New New Home and cared for, and she knew how they came to be. Her husband wasn’t one of them, however. He never reached the Surface, but she was nearly positive that he wasn’t dead, that he was somewhere. How many nights did she jolt awake from frantic dreams of being left for all of eternity in a dark puddle in Waterfall or under the unbearable heat of the lava in Hotland? She searched, of course, but she never found him. _

_ And then her sweet angel, her baby boy, Parose, woke up in the night screaming, crying that his soul hurt. She memorized the symptoms of lentamordis long ago and with cold dread, recognized it immediately. That night, she tore apart her home lab--arguably the location of the most definitive collection of research regarding lentamordis in the entire multiverse--searching desperately for a shred of hope, anything that might save her children. _

_ Parose was a bonded twin. If she lost him, she lost them both. _

_ Weeks went by and nothing she did brought any answers. Parose slowly worsened, his brother showing magic fatigue from trying to support him and keep him alive with his magic, and Hueline finally made a decision. She swore she’d never cross the lines that the lizard did, would never hurt anyone the way she had been hurt, but she couldn’t lose her children. So she made the device she’d drawn up plans for years ago, back when they were still under the mountain and she did science around her children playing on the floor of the kitchen. She knew it would work, she needed only to find the perfect subject. _

_ Another month passed before a folder appeared on Hueline’s desk one morning. It contained information about a mage, a young lady she was not familiar with, named Eleanor. She realized that the girl had exactly what she needed: a faded soul, and not pure determination, but an offshoot, one that would hold some determination but not the blistering numbers capable of melting monsters even in small doses. Optimism, the file said, the bright pink faded into something duller, diluting the determination even more. _

_ When she needed a way to get the mage to the labs, a file of a beaver monster security guard appeared on her desk. He hated humans, hated mages more, couldn’t stand that the skeletons kept one around. Apparently, he was disgusted every time she swiped into the Embassy and it hadn’t taken much to convince him to lie about her ‘disgusting boyfriend’s' location. Douglas snarled about how disgusting it was that the skeleton was now 'boning' the mage. Hueline kept her nose firmly out of it, though Alphys did say that the two were not officially dating yet. It didn't matter, not really, but if she wasn't Black's mate then Hueline perhaps stood a better chance of her plan working out. It never would under the watchful eye of the hyper-observant skeleton. _

_ It would work. It had to. _

_ Chloroform doesn’t affect monsters, but it sure knocks out mages. And if it’s dosed with magic, the mage won’t even remember being knocked out when they woke. No time lost. No memory of the experience. _

_ Harmless. _

_ The first time she tried it, she used too little chloroform. She was afraid that the mage would have some sort of negative reaction to the drugs. Instead, she didn’t totally lose consciousness, not right away. She scrabbled on the floor of the lab, gasping for air and desperately trying to form attacks. Her eyes bulged as she looked up at Hueline, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hueline didn’t get any determination from her that day; instead, she sat on the floor and cried when the girl finally fell unconscious. Luckily, the low dose didn’t keep her from forgetting. _

_ The second time was nearly worse. She overcompensated for her first mistake and the girl fell into too-deep a sleep. That night, she had a pizza delivered to the house for her boys and held the mage’s hand while she slept, her breathing too shallow the entire time. She used the mage’s phone to text Black, careful to replicate the girl’s text style, to cancel the date they apparently had that night. It was to be their first one, but it was simple to feign illness. He bought it and, thankfully, she woke the next day with no memory and no side effects. _

_ She finally got some determination on the third try. _

_ After that the next five tries, the amount that she had to do to get enough diluted determination, were harmless. She seemed so happy when Black asked to see her soul, felt so loved that she didn’t seem to mind showing it off. The dull pink glow was almost too much for Hueline; it clearly had been through some awful things to be so faded. Even from behind the glass of the control room, she could see the scars that littered the surface. As time went on, the pits and scars began to fill in with purple, both the color of her mate’s magic and perseverance. Perhaps once the determination study was finished she could explore that phenomenon. _

_ When she finally had enough of the solution, she brought Parose to the lab. He was so excited for a field trip, a day off school, and she could hardly even look at him. The visage of the Amalgamates danced in her vision, fear was thick in her throat, but it was the only option. There was no other possibility. So she called forth Parose’s soul and injected the pale pink liquid directly into his fading soul. _

_ And it worked. _

_ He lived. _

_ He was cured. _

_ So she kept going, kept collecting the diluted determination. There were so many monsters suffering needlessly! She could save them, one little pink vial at a time. _

_ The tenth time she did it, the mage’s vitals suddenly plummeted and the girl convulsed on the table. Hueline was going to fix it, she was, but the door to her control room blasted open and skeletal hands grabbed her. She fought, she had to save the girl, but their hands were steel and she couldn’t get away from them. She watched in horror as the soul started to crack, felt our own soul scream when she saw the mage’s mate scramble to grab it with his hands, trying desperately to hold it together like his own will could save her. _

_ Somehow, he did. And if she were a scientist still, she would want to research that. How had he saved her? It didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t matter now. It was over. _

_ After her first night in the cell she woke to a note under her pillow: “Thank you for your service. Soon, it will all come together. She will know her place. It is only a matter of time. Don’t talk and your boys will be cared for.” _

_ She ripped it to shreds and cried herself back to sleep, desperately missing her boys. _

Everything faded, and Red was himself again. He groaned and rubbed his skull; he’d always hated doin’ that. His own soul groaned under the weight, but he shoved it aside and looked at the doc. She was pressed agains’ the wall o’ her cell clutchin’ at her chest. Her eyes were wild when she looked at him. “I… I couldn’t lose him! His brother is a bonded twin. I’d have lost them both!” 

Red bit back the urge to tell her that everyone dies an’ to jus’ accept it. That was a distinctly Underfell sentiment not meant for this saccharine world. Here, parents didn’t lose their children, not usually.  _ Lucky bastards. _

“I never meant to hurt Elea--”

“Don’t use her name!” Red snarled. “Ya don’ get to use ‘er name.”

Hueline looked away an’ swiped at her eyes to rid herself o’ the tears. Red felt his own soul react to her tears, the Judge whisperin’ to deal out Justice, but he knew how to shut the Judge the fuck up. ‘E’d been doin’ it for years.

Red stared at her for a minute, but he could see she was tellin’ the truth. Of course she was. Her soul’d been bared ‘fore him. She couldn’t lie, not anymore, not to him. So… someone recommended you? Someone who could get into the labs?  _ Of course _ this talk left ‘im with more questions than answers. Another fucking dead end in findin’ whoever the hell was after Black’s mage. He rose from his seat and said, “Well, ya’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Got anythin’ else to tell me?”

“N-no. Listen, no harm done! Please. I just want to go home. I want to see my boys.  _ Please.” _

“No harm done?” Red growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Ya nearly killed the mage. Ya ran secret unauthorized experiments an’ not only that, specifically forbidden experiments, the same one that prob’ly melted yer mate. Ya ran ‘em on a kidnapped an’ uninformed subject. Yer lucky ya didn’ melt yer own kid an’ kill my mage. The fact that you think none o’ that qualifies as ‘harm done’ means this cell is exactly where ya belong. Good fuckin’ riddance.”

“What wouldn’t you do for your family?” she spat right back. “For your brother? If he was dying and you could save him, would you not try? How about your mate? You’re so high and mighty about the mage, but if sacrificing her meant saving either of them, you would do it in an instant. And it could! Her soul could be the key to saving monsterkind, fixing all of our medical problems. One day, someone you love will need saving and you’ll come back to me begging for my research.” She leaned closer to the glass. “She might be your ‘family’ but she’s not really your  _ family _ and we both know it.”

“You don’ no nothin’ about me.” He teleported away before he had to look in her eyes again. Her words weren’t settling well with his soul, not right now, not with the weight of her sins weighing it down. He stepped out of the void into Edge’s office and easily caught the bone attack his brother threw at him. 

“What’s wrong?” Edge demanded immediately.

“Get Black up ‘ere. We need ta talk ‘bout his mage.”

***

Red didn’t come home that night. Sans knew that he didn’t need to worry ‘bout Red, even with his loud mouth and shitty HP, but they’d planned to go to that new bar downtown with Blue and Paps for Black and Edge’s couple challenge. He was a selfish asshole, sure, but Red usually at least checked in if he was supposed to be somewhere and wasn’t. It left Sans feelin’ jumpy, so he did what any good mate would do: pulled up the trackers he planted on ‘im and teleported his coccyx to their location.

Well, Red found  _ a _ bar at least.

It was a shitty dive bar on the southside. Sans slipped inside unseen (a talent he shared with the other skeletons, being unseen when he wanted to be) and surveyed the situation for a moment. Red was slumped at the bar, the other patrons giving ‘im a wide berth, completely surrounded by toppled shot glasses. He held a bottle now an’ was taking gulps of whatever was in it. His usually-sharp eye lights were fuzzy as they skittered ‘round the bar, keeping track of all of the humans casually chatting around the room.

Sans slipped onto one of the stools beside ‘im. “Hey handsome, bad day?”

Red started to snarl, but froze when he saw that it was his collared. His fuzzy eye lights constricted to pin pricks in recognition and... fear? “Sans?” he choked out.

“The one an’ only.”  _ Heh. _

‘Yer… Yer here. Yer alive.”

Sans startled at that, but carefully buried his concern and confusion under his trademark lazy grin. “What? ‘Course I am. Why wouldn’ I be?”

Red stared at him for a few more seconds before shaking his head and taking another swig from the bottle. “Right. Yer fine. Always were fine.”

Understanding flooded him. This was the Judge. Red lived someone else’s life today and this was ‘im coming down. Gods know Sans himself found comfort in a bottle after some judging sessions, but, “Hey, I’m the local Judge, buddy. Who’s soul ya lookin’ at today?”

Red didn’t answer him, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He turned to Sans, jaw working, and then let out a small strangled noise and collapsed against Sans’s shoulder. Sans hugged him close automatically and winced when he felt dampness on his shoulder. A bad one then. Sans cooed and stroked Red’s back and just held him for a minute before whispering, “Let’s pay the bill an’ get home, yeah?” Red nodded against Sans’s shoulder, so Sans waved over the bartender, paid the outrageous bill, and left a very generous tip. Then, he shortcutted his idiot home.

The two of them sank onto the couch and Red’s hands scrambled over Sans, trying to find somewhere to hold on. He grappled with Sans’s jacket, tried to push it down off of his shoulders before giving up with a small whine and just crashing his teeth against Sans’s. Sans could taste his terror, his desperation, all of the things he was trying to bury. Red moved his hands to Sans’s hips and slipped below the waistband of his shorts, touching his iliac crest and spine. Sans bit back a gasp and broke away. Red looked away, stricken, but Sans leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Not like this, chuckles,” Sans said softly. 

Red erupted in tears again and Sans felt his soul quiver at the sight. Red never cried, not ever, not even that time that they thought Edge was dead for a day and a half or, he was told, the last time he got sick when Red came home an' found 'im half dead. This was 100% the soul that was still ghosting across Red’s own, shoving feelings in that he didn’t have, not really, or elevating ones that he did to uncontrollable levels. The first time he had to do a close read (and that had to be what Red did today; a normal Judging left them tired and skittish but not completely broken like this), Paps’d barely kept Sans from dusting himself out of remorse for murdering his family.

Of course, he’d done no such thing, but in order for the Judge to see sins, Sans had to see them too. Turns out that shit bonds to your soul a little and Paps held Sans down with magic until Sans passed out that night, then carried him straight to Asgore to demand an explanation for what happened to his brother. From then on, Paps was always at the castle for Judgings and Asgore had a special chamber just for him to rest in immediately after.

No sharp objects or ropes and Papyrus there to keep an eye.

Sans never asked Red what Edge did after Judgements like that back in Underfell, but he did know that a lot of Edge’s LV came from actually killing the people Red Judged. The Judge doesn’t often order death, no matter how much the king may want it to, so Edge was the one who delivered the final blow when the Judge could not. Red carried a whole lot of guilt about that, felt like the LV that everybody judged Edge for was his fault. Nevermind that if they refused their damned tyrant would’ve dusted ‘em both and prob’ly the rest of Snowdin for good measure, no, Red's dumb ass was a glutton for punishment. Had a real ego on ‘im, that was for damn sure, thinkin’ everything that ever happened in any ‘verse was his fault. 

But no, Sans had no idea how Edge cared for Red after a Judgement, no idea if there was a specially prepared chamber at the castle or if Edge had to carry him back to Snowdin and hold him down with magic until he came back to himself.

No, Sans only knew that he loved Red and was going to take care of him in the here and now, no matter what.

Sans gently urged Red to lay down and they curled up on the couch together, Red pulled tightly to Sans’s chest. He was trembling, his bones rattling softly. “It wasn’ you,'' Sans said finally. “Ya lived some bastard’s life, but it wasn’ you. Whatever they did, ya didn’. I’m fine and ya bro’s fine. Everyone’s fine, Red. Everyone.”

Red shuddered. “My mate melted, determination--”

“Not  _ your _ mate,” Sans corrected gently.

“What if she’s right?”

Sans was quick on the draw an’ just from this little tidbit, he knew who they were talkin’ about. “She’s not,” Sans said firmly.

Red laughed bitterly. “Ya don’ even know what she said.”

“I don’ have to. I know you, an’ if ya’re this worked up, then she ain’t right.”

“Don’ let me hurt her, Sans.  _ Please _ . Promise me.” For the first time since the bar, Red looked up at him. His face was streaked with magic and his eye lights were too big. He looked like the little kid he never got to be in Underfell.

“Who?” Sans asked.

“Ellie. Promise… Promise ya won’ let me hurt ‘er, no matter who it’d save. Even… Even if it’s Paps. Even if it’s you.” His hands twisted in Sans’s hoodie. “There’s gotta be another way, there’s gotta be. She’s my family. She is.”

Things became a little clearer and Sans shifted so that he was looking into Red’s eye lights. “You wouldn’ hurt her,” Sans said firmly, “so I don’ mind promisin’ that I won’ let you. No matter what.”

That seemed to calm Red somewhat. He snuggled in closer to Sans and pressed his forehead against Sans’s sternum, right over where his soul was hidden. He lay there for a while silently petting at it, hopefully feelin’ all the love an’ shit in his soul, but eventually, his breathing evened out and Sans relaxed. Red would sleep like the dead for at least a day. After that, he should be fine. The effects of the Judge might linger a little, might make Red moody or weepy, but he’d be mostly back to normal after he woke and totally back to his asshole self in a week at the longest. 

Sans shifted enough that he could grab his phone and shoot off a few texts. When Red woke up he’d be hungry and Sans sure as hell wasn’ gonna make ‘im eat his cookin’. Nah, Edge and Paps would be thrilled to bring by some comfort foods. With that arranged, Sans settled back down onto the couch and wrapped his arms around Red again. He snuffled a little in his sleep and burrowed more against Sans, hands lightly twisting in the fabric of his jacket. Sans grinned and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, cocooning the both of them, then shut his eyes to fall into a light sleep. After all, Red was in no condition to protect the house while they slept. Sans would have to be the one to wake quick if there was trouble. There wouldn’t be, of course, but his soul never quit warming at the thought that Red would let himself sleep this deeply with Sans standing guard. It was the deepest sign of trust for Red, one that he’d only ever shared with Edge until they’d been together for nearly a year.

Sans pressed a kiss to Red’s head. Gods, he loved this idiot, and he would do whatever it took to keep him safe, even from himself and the Judge. Sans settled in for his light sleep, a protective arm slung around Red. Even as he drifted off, he made plans to visit the Embassy holdin’ cells to see exactly what the doc said that upset Red so badly. Maybe it was finally time for a little karmic retribution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Red goes to see Dr. Hueline, who is being held in the Embassy's secret prison cells. He does a close read on her soul and experiences her life, specifically what led her to experiment on Ellie. Her husband was lost during the determination experiments and one of her children began showing similar symptoms. She took the diluted determination (both from Ellie having a pink soul offshoot of determination and a faded one at that) and used it to cure her son. Red discovers that Ellie was recommended as a test subject and Douglas as the security guard to help her through someone leaving files on Hueline's desk. He learns that she doesn't know who her benefactor was but that she was told if she didn't talk, her boys would be cared for. Afterwards, Red has trouble sorting his memories from hers and goes drinking because he thinks Sans died. Sans goes and finds him, takes him home, and takes care of him.
> 
> This was originally a short conversation between Hueline and Red, then Sans wanted in on it and I just can't say no to my favorite couple that are in a loving, committed relationship but spend most of their time pretending to hate each other. So anyway, that's how we got here, a little cute comfort to end the angst! Don't worry; we will revisit the issues discussed in this work as we move forward in Nightlights. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Summary:  
> Sans goes to the doctor to get his eye light checked (injured during The Gales of November), but he panics when he sees the exam chair. The doctor tells him that the crack is permanent, but his vision should be okay as long as he takes a week off work to let it finish healing. He lashes out at Ellie on the way home but apologizes when he realizes he was a jerk.


End file.
